


The Sweetest Day

by Candy_A



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: sweet, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day Jim dismisses as a greeting card holiday takes on a new meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about to post an OT question on Senad, and figured I'd post my penance here, since it got a *bit* longer than planned. :-)   
> 

## The Sweetest Day

by Candy Apple

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281>

Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel. No money being made. Just for fun.

* * *

Scanning the bullpen, Jim shook his head with a slight smile. It was amazing how the greeting card companies could throw a room full of normally logical, down-to-earth men into a bunch of hand-wringing wrecks. Valentine's Day was a given--if you're in a relationship and screw up on that day, you're in hot water until the next major holiday, which you better get right if you value your life. But _Sweetest Day_? So far he'd overheard three dinner reservations being made and two flower orders being placed. //At least a few of us'll be getting some tonight,// Jim thought cynically. 

He put the final touches on the report and signed off on it. Most of the paperwork was done, and even though he'd given up a rare Saturday off to do it, it was worth it. It was almost dinner time now, and Jim sat back in his desk chair for a moment, contemplating where to go grab a bite to eat. It was doubtful Blair would be sitting home on Saturday night--especially not one with any slight romantic significance like Sweetest Day. No, Blair would have something lined up for tonight. 

"So who was she?" Simon asked, pulling his sport coat on as he passed Jim's desk. 

"Who?" The detective frowned as he rose also, grabbing his coat off the rack and falling into step with Simon toward the elevator. 

"The mystery woman." 

"Oh--the donut thing," Jim recalled. He had almost forgotten the first thing that had greeted him when he arrived that morning. Jenny, the girl with the bagel cart, had delivered what had to be the largest glazed buttermilk donut in history to Jim's desk, with the message that it was a Sweetest Day present from a secret admirer. "No, I haven't heard anymore about it." 

"You didn't pick up anything from the donut?" 

"Yeah, probably about 600 calories, God knows how much cholesterol, and a lecture from Sandburg if he finds out." 

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Simon responded, laughing as they stepped into the elevator and Jim pushed the button to take them down to the garage. "Big plans tonight?" 

"Yeah. I have a date with a pizza, a beer and my remote control. How about you?" 

"I'm taking Amy to dinner at that new seafood place downtown. The one they built in that renovated warehouse near the docks." 

"Oh, yeah. How're things going with her?" Jim asked conversationally. 

"We've both had our share of rough spots in the relationship department, so we're both a little wary. But we're having a good time getting to know each other." 

"Great. I hope it works out," Jim said with a slight smile as the doors opened and they started out into the garage. 

"So where's the kid tonight?" 

"I don't know. Probably romancing some unsuspecting T.A. from the U." 

"Sounds like Sandburg. See you Monday, Jim." 

"Yeah. Tell Amy I said 'hi'." 

"Will do," Simon called back over his shoulder, heading for his car. 

Jim let out an almost audible sigh as he reached the pick up. If he'd stayed home, he'd have probably spent the day with Blair, doing something scintillating like grocery shopping or washing the truck or doing laundry. Still, he missed spending the time with his roommate. 

Inserting the key into the ignition, Jim felt a wave of depression. He loved Blair, deeply and with every fiber of his being. He'd been on the verge of saying something several times, and sometimes when Blair had looked at him so hopefully, waiting for a verbal affirmation of their friendship, he'd let it pass. How do you release only as much of a feeling as is appropriate? When you love someone desperately, how do you tell them in shoulder-punching, buddy terms that they're your best friend without saying more? 

The traffic was heavier in the business district, and as Jim waited for a red light to change, he reached a decision. Changing lanes, to the chagrin of a couple other motorists, he pulled up in front of a bookstore he'd visited with Blair a couple days earlier. It sold primarily used and antique books, and Blair had found a copy of an old Anthropology text signed by the author--someone Blair claimed was someone important--someone whose work Blair had read, studied and respected. 

Jim spotted the store owner locking the front door as he pulled up to the curb to park. He jumped out of the truck and rushed up to the small storefront, motioning to the owner to let him in. 

"Sorry, sir, we're closing," he called through the glass. Jim made a couple of other pleading gestures, and when the man was unmoved, Jim did what he had never done before--pulled out his badge for purely selfish reasons. When the elderly man saw the police badge, he unlocked the door and opened it for Jim. 

"I didn't mean to alarm you, but I thought maybe if you saw the badge, you'd feel more comfortable letting me in after hours," Jim explained, needing to explain his use of the police ID fairly rapidly before he found himself in trouble for having used it at all in this situation. 

"What do you need, officer?" the man asked, obviously puzzled. 

"I was in here a couple days ago with a friend of mine, and he saw a book he wanted, and I completely forgot to get in here and buy it, and his birthday is today," Jim lied fluidly. 

"Oh, I think I remember. The guy with the long hair?" 

"Right. He was looking at an old Anthropology textbook." 

"I'm sure it's still here. Come on in." The man shut and locked the door behind Jim. "Now let's see." He moved toward the back of the store, finally locating the volume in question from inside a locked display case. "The price is 275." 

"Excuse me?" Jim asked, eyes bulging. He knew Blair had made a face about the price, and he also figured it must have been steep for Blair to leave without it, since he'd spent several minutes reverently looking it over, running his hand over the cover like it was some holy text. 

"It's signed by the author, and he's been deceased for about twenty years. It's a first edition--the book is over sixty years old, sir, and in near mint condition." 

"You said 275?" Jim asked again. A long pause ensued. 

"I could sell it to you for 250, but not a penny less, or I'd be taking a loss." 

"Really," Jim muttered under his breath, figuring the book probably came from an estate sale or some other source in which the buyer didn't realize what price it could fetch, or was desperate enough to sell it for about half of the current asking price. 

"Look, technically I'm closed, and I have to be getting home--" 

"Deal," Jim said decisively, relinquishing the book long enough for the man to carry it back to the cash register and ring up the sale. "Do you have anything to wrap it up with?" Jim asked. For 250, he figured the guy ought to be able to come up with something. 

"All I have is some plain brown paper I use for shipping, and some twine." 

"Well, it's not elegant, but I guess it'll have to do. Could you wrap it up for me in some of that?" 

"Sure thing," he responded, giving Jim his abused credit card back before retreating through a curtained doorway to his back room. Returning with a sheet of the paper, he wrapped the book carefully and tied the twine around it, leaving a big, loopy bow on top. "Bet he'll be mighty surprised with this," the store owner commented, smiling a bit. 

"Yeah, he'll be surprised all right," Jim agreed, smiling, thinking just how surprised Blair would be by not only an expensive gift, but by what Jim planned on telling him. "Oh, man, look at that rain!" Jim complained as he accepted the package, unzipping his jacket and pulling it around himself and the book, lest it suffer any water damage. 

"Have a good evening," the older man said, opening the door for Jim to leave. 

"Thanks for opening up for me," he said, rushing out into the rain and finally climbing into the dry haven of the truck's cab. Laying his treasure on the seat, he drove toward the loft. 

* * *

After another mad dash through the rain, he found himself inside the building and riding up in the elevator toward home. He'd been happy to find Blair's car in the parking lot, and hoped that meant that by some miracle of fate, Blair didn't have a date. As he approached the door, he could hear soft instrumental music wafting to his sensitive ears. Definitely not Sandburg's usual style. There were smells, too. It was food for sure, but Jim's curiosity was too piqued to stand in the hall and analyze what it was. He opened the door and stepped inside the loft. 

A fire in the fireplace cast a cozy gold glow around the living room, candles on the table added a dancing light to the rest of the loft. 

"Blair?" Jim called out to his friend, knowing he was somewhere in the loft, and finally homing in on his heartbeat, which was coming from Blair's bedroom. In a moment, the younger man emerged from behind the partially open French doors, wearing a pair of jeans and a Jags sweatshirt Jim had bought him the last time he'd gone to a game with Simon. The captain had offered Jim the spare ticket, and at Blair's urging, Jim had gone, but hadn't enjoyed much of it without Blair by his side. So on the way out, he'd bought the sweatshirt and taken it home to a stunned and very pleased Blair. 

"Hi," Blair said, a little uneasily. "I thought you'd probably be hungry--unless you ate on the way home?" 

"No, no, I didn't. I, uh, had another stop to make." Jim pulled the package out from under his coat. "Here," he handed it to Blair, who accepted it, looking bewildered. //Nice presentation speech, Ellison. I'm sure he'll remember this moment always,// Jim ridiculed himself. 

"For me?" Blair still looked disbelieving. 

"It's, uh, a Swtstdyprsnt," Jim mumbled. 

"A what?" Blair asked, frowning. 

"You know, today...it's, uh, well, one of those Hallmark holidays." Jim gestured awkwardly toward the package Blair was holding. 

"Oh, right. Happy Sweetest Day to you too, Jim," Blair said, grinning fondly at his stuttering partner. "Is it okay if I open it now?" 

"I was kind of hoping you would," Jim responded, laughing nervously. 

"Okay." Blair tore into the paper like a kid at Christmas, and when it was all stripped away from the book, he stared at it, dumbfounded. 

"Did I, uh, pick up the right one?" Jim knew it was a lame question, since there weren't an abundance of signed Anthropology texts in the book store to begin with. 

"Yeah, you did." Blair ran his hand over the cover much the way he had in the store. "This is really mine?" 

"It's really yours, Chief," Jim replied, chuckling a little at his partner's unabashed reverence for the book. 

"I don't know what to say." 

"Thanks'll work fine," Jim responded, grinning. Blair set the book gently aside on the table and threw his arms around Jim, hugging him tightly. Jim reciprocated the hug, holding Blair close and savoring the feeling. 

"Thank you," Blair said so quietly and so sincerely that it conveyed to Jim just how much the gift meant to him. He pulled back from Jim, smiling a little. "I still can't believe...Jim, this cost a _fortune_." 

"Well, I had two kidneys, and since I only really needed one..." Jim shrugged, laughing softly at Blair's rapt expression as he carefully turned a few pages, then went back to the front to examine the author's signature. 

"There's just one thing you have to do." 

"What's that?" 

"You have to put a message in it." Blair handed Jim the book. 

"What? You mean like a note?" 

"Well, sort of. Haven't you ever given anyone a book before? You write a message inside the cover, and it's nice if you put the date on there too." 

"You want me to write in your book? Blair, this is a collector's item." 

"I will never sell this book as long as I live." Blair took it back and held it in his arms, against his chest. "And it would be even more valuable _to me_ if you wrote something to me in the front of it. Please? It doesn't have to be anything big." 

"I'd be honored," Jim said, his voice a little husky. Blair's face broke into a big grin as he hurried back into his room and found a pen he considered suitable for the task and presented it to Jim, who sat at the table to write his message. "By the way, Chief, the place looks great, and something smells pretty good too." //Besides you...// Jim added silently. 

"Knowing you, you haven't had anything to eat since that donut this morning," Blair said, sitting down at the table next to Jim. "So I fixed us salad and there's chicken baking in the oven." 

"I'm starved. And you're right, I forgot about lunch completely. Hey--how'd you know about the donut?" Jim watched as Blair shrugged. 

"Happy Sweetest Day from your secret admirer." Blair watched Jim's motionless expression for a moment, and then laughed a little sadly. "I thought this would be a good day to, uh...tell you how I feel." Blair paused, the silence from Jim seeming to stab him in the heart like a dagger. "Guess I really called that one wrong." 

"Blair, I...I..." Jim paused, dumbfounded when Blair had taken the ball out of his court that way and declared his feelings first. He looked back at the book. "I should sign this," he said, and Blair nodded, all his prior enthusiasm drained away. Jim knew he should grab Blair and kiss him, profess his love, reassure him that all those feelings were returned...but then, Blair hadn't really declared his forever commitment. Just that he had sent Jim a donut on Sweetest Day. And cooked dinner. And asked for his signature in the front of this book, which would render it much less valuable as a collectible. And looked like his whole world had just shattered into a million pieces at the thought that Jim didn't want him for an admirer. 

Jim picked up the pen and wrote his message, signed it, and then turned it around toward Blair. 

"All my love forever, Jim.   
Sweetest Day, 1998" 

"Does this mean...?" Blair looked up from it hopefully, eyes bright with moisture, and tinged with fear. 

"It means just what it says." Jim looked into those deep blue eyes, and found the courage to say what he needed to say. "I love you, Blair. And I never dared to dream my secret admirer would be you." 

"You mean it?" Blair asked in a hushed tone. 

"Hey, I wouldn't have written it--in _ink_ \--in the front of a 275 book if I didn't mean it, would I?" 

"I guess not," Blair responded, chuckling a little brokenly. 

"So...uh...is there anything you want to tell me?" Jim looked at Blair questioningly, with a slight smile. 

"Oh, my God...Yes! I love you too!" Blair launched himself at his partner, straddling the larger man's thighs and wrapping his arms tightly around Jim's neck as he laughed at his own very significant omission in their conversation. "I love you so much. I thought maybe you did too, but I wasn't sure." 

"Be sure." Jim wrapped his arms around his new lover, sliding a hand up into the mass of soft curls. "This is one thing you can be sure of for a lifetime, Chief." 

End 

* * *

Happy Sweetest Day, Everybody!! :-) 


End file.
